Run Through the Jungle
by blackdog-lz
Summary: A simply observation mission turns into a rescue mission
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Beta'd by faye-dartmouth, who has patiently corrected my comma mistakes :)  
>This story has several parts that will be posted regularly. The title comes from CCR's Run through the Jungle.<p>

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><p><strong>Run Through the Jungle<strong>

Part 1

Rick didn't know what was more uncomfortable: to have sand in every orifice or to be sweating even while sitting impossibly still. But thinking about it, there really wasn't much of a difference between the two states. Both were uncomfortable and itchy.

Rick sighed and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull at it in a vain attempt to get some air circulation. He really started to long for the cold winter back in Langley. The ODS had been sent from one mission in Egypt right to the next somewhere in the middle of the South American rainforest. From hot, dry air into hot, humid air.

"Are you running hot over there?" Billy asked. The Scot was leaning against the window of the bast hovel they had called home for the past few days. With his arms crossed in front of his chest and his face turned slightly to observe the forest around him, Billy looked anything but uncomfortable.

"I just hope that Michael and Casey return soon. I could really use that water," Rick replied, slightly jealous about the fact that his colleague seemed to have no problem with the current climate.

The two of them were alone in the hut; Michael and Casey had left them early in the morning to go on a supply run. By then, it had become obvious that they would have to stay for a few more days to get all the intel they needed. This was supposed to be just a simply reconnaissance mission, but knowing the rest of his team members and the unpredictability of the CIA, Rick knew this could turn into an extraction mission pretty quick. So it was better to be prepared.

They were supposed to find out if Manuel Santiago, a local cartel lord, was in his mansion and who else was with him. The CIA had heard that Santiago was about to break up his cartel into smaller organizations, which would make it harder to pinpoint any specific criminal activity to him. They wanted to stop him before that happened.

Billy nodded in reply and turned his attention back to the jungle outside. "Don't worry, with time you get used to the heat or the changing climate. The advantages of a trained operative. Nothing will faze you. Well," Billy said, looking back at him with a smirk on his face, "nearly nothing."

Rick just shook his head and was happy that Billy didn't continue. He really didn't need to find out just what could faze Billy. Or Michael and Casey for that matter.

They had rented this little bast hut from a CIA informant. It was old and looked abandoned; parts of the back wall were missing and the roof had sacked in in one corner. Water was dripping inside from some bended bast fibers and black mold had grown around the little puddle. The only furniture was the rickety chair Rick was sitting in and he wasn't sure how long that thing would last.

But even with the thick trees that surrounded the place, they had a clear view of the main entrance of Santiago's little mansion. The man himself had arrived early this morning. Casey had seen him drive inside and since then the safety measures on the compound had doubled.

The team even had had to temporarily flee their little home for nearly an hour, when a couple of Santiago's men came to check it out. They had hidden deep in the jungle for that time, eyes and ears open to anything unusual, but the only thing they had heard was the chatter of the animals surrounding them.

Rick continued to flap the collar of his shirt a few more times, before he finally gave up. It was a futile effort anyway. He was really ready for this assignment to be over. With two missions back to back, he was getting exhausted. And sitting around in the humid jungle heat did nothing to help, even with Billy trying to keep up his spirits. Rick just wanted to go home and sleep in a real bed again. Of course he knew that what they did was important, but in times like these it was hard to remember that fact. He'd signed up for danger, not heat stroke.

The feeling of something moving up on his skin made Rick shift his attention and he watched as a small mosquito made its way up his bare arm. Which was just great-on top of being uncomfortable, he'd probably contract some tropical disease, too. Slowly he lifted his other hand, ready to squish the insect. But before he could kill it, his wrist was grabbed in a strong hold. Rick flinched in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone approaching and now Billy was standing right beside him, wrist in his hand and finger placed over his lips.

Tension was visible in Billy's face as he listened to his surroundings, and Rick followed the older operative's lead. Straining his ears, Rick heard nothing. He was just about to ask Billy what he had heard to put him on the edge, when the Scot pulled his gun from the back of his cargos.

Again Rick wanted to ask what was wrong, when he realized it himself. It was completely silent. Even the buzzing of the insects that had annoyed him all day had stopped.

He pulled his gun with slightly trembling hands and held it, barrel down, in front of him, trying to find the reason for the sudden silence.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he tried to hold on to Billy's words, that he had to use his fear, work with it. He forced himself to take a long, deep breath and then went to check the window on the other side of the hut. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Billy moving to the door, taking a quick look out. Rick followed his example and looked out of the second window.

Nothing was moving outside. The big green leaves were still, slowly dripping water. It seemed as if all animals had vanished into thin air. Every time they had looked out before, small birds had fluttered by, or some kind of reptile had skittered past. The stillness now was unsettling.

For a second, Rick really hoped that it was just Michael and Casey returning and playing a joke on them. But when a bullet ripped through the bast just a few inches from his head, he knew that this was not another joke.

Rick and Billy threw themselves on the ground as more bullets passed over their heads. The already unstable hut shook under the onslaught as the fibers were torn apart, leaving gaping holes.

The two ODS operatives had pressed themselves to the ground, trying to be the smallest target as was possible. They had no cover and no idea who attacked them and how to fight back. But even without a clear target to shoot at, Rick lifted his gun and pulled the trigger. It was a vain attempt to defend them or at least a faint hope to stall the attack until Michael and Casey would return to help them.

He did however realize that Billy hadn't taken any shots yet. Casting a quick look over his shoulder, he saw that Billy had his eyes closed, concentrating on his sense of hearing rather than his sight and Rick hoped that whatever Billy did hear was good news and not more attackers approaching.

For now it seemed as if the counterattack had worked. Whoever attacked them had at least stopped shooting.

Rick glanced over to Billy, who in return just shook his head. The attack was most like not over yet; they were just probably just regrouping.

After the wailing of the passing bullets, the silence now was even more eerie than before. Because this time, Rick knew what was coming and that was worse than being in the dark. However, the quiet around them also worked in their favor. The rustling sound of someone approaching through the underbrush otherwise probably would have been lost in the natural noises of the rainforest.

Now Billy had just enough time to roll on his back and shoot the man that tried to attack them from behind. The man, who had just seconds ago tried to climb in through the window, gave a muted grunt before he fell backward.

More rustling could be heard, this time not only from one side of the cabin. They were surrounded, outgunned and outmanned. But going by Billy's determined face, they were not going to go down easy. Rick briefly closed his eyes. His heart was beating a mile a minute in fear. But giving up without a fight was not the way he was brought up, was not the way the rest of his team had showed him.

The next man that tried to enter the hut was felled by one of Rick's bullets. More men followed, entering the small hut through the two windows and the single door. Soon Rick had to abandon his gun and started to fight off his attackers with just his fists. He only caught glimpses of Billy defending himself.

His fighting skills were good, Rick knew that, since he managed to pass that course in the top 3% of his class, but they were nowhere near Casey's and the number of men attacking them simply topped his abilities.

With regret and fear rising in his throat, Rick found himself overpowered by the latest man and with a gun against his temple and an arm around his throat, he had no other choice but to give up.

He was forced to face Billy, who was standing ready to fight across the room. His chest was heaving, his gun also lost in the chaos, but somehow replaced with a knife. A bruise was already forming on Billy's jaw, and blood ran down his cheek from a cut beside his eyebrow, mixing with the blood from a split lip. There was a large tear in the shoulder of his black t-shirt, but there didn't seem to be any injury underneath it.

Rick knew that he probably looked similarly bad, especially since he could taste the blood on his lips and felt the tender skin around his eye. But seeing Billy visibly deflate when the Scot realized that the fight was over, really made him aware of just how bad their situation was.

Rick met Billy's eyes with an apologetic gaze, in reply, Billy shrugged and let go of the bloody knife, letting it clatter to the ground.

Helplessly, the youngest ODS operative had to watch as one of their attackers raised his gun and brought the barrel down hard over Billy's head. The Scot collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut and then his Rick's own world turned black.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Sweat was slowly making its way down between his shoulder blades, and Michael inadvertently shuddered at the uncomfortable feeling it left behind.

He and Casey were on the last part of their trek back to their hut. They had spent the last forty-five minutes walking though the dense jungle, sometimes hacking their way through with a machete. But with any luck, they should arrive within the next ten minutes.

Each man was carrying a heavy backpack filled with water, food, ammunition and even some explosives. They had received new orders from Higgins when they had contacted him. Now the ODS was not just supposed to observe, but should engage and arrest Santiago. The US Navy was already notified and on stand-by to pick him up.

"You think that Billy drove Rick nuts already?" Michael asked, a small smile appearing on his face.

Casey snorted. "That's the way the CIA saves some money in interrogation training. Two days with a bored Billy and the kid should be ready for everything."

Michael was just about to reply, when Casey suddenly stopped, all traces of mirth disappearing from his face.

"What?" Michael asked, his voice hushed.

Casey cocked his head to the side, listening for a few seconds before saying, "I don't know. Something feels off."

One glance between them was enough and they sped up their pace. Michael trusted Casey's gut feelings. Same as he trusted in Billy's people skills and in Rick's ability to translate just about everything. When the man said that something was not right, it probably was true. And that alone made his stomach clench in worry.

The second he was able to see the hut through the trees, the worry shifted and grabbed his heart in a tight, cold fist. While the hut had looked less than stellar even before, now the fibers were more frayed and bullet holes were clearly visible in the barely standing walls. Michael stared at the hut for a second.

They had thought that they were in the clear after the hut had been searched this morning by the guards. He had deemed it safe for Billy and Rick to stay there on their own. And now they had been attacked, maybe even killed. Michael didn't want to check the inside of the hut, but when he saw Casey moving out of the corner of his eyes, he knew that he had to act too. They still had a job to do, no matter what had happened. And he would finish it.

Casey took off his backpack and leaned it against a tree before he drew his gun and stepped into the hut.

"I got blood," his voice floated outside.

Michael took a deep breath and placed his pack beside Casey's. With his gun aimed about chest high in front of him, the ODS team leader walked around the hut. He was scared that he would find something, but also afraid that he wouldn't. But as he walked past the first window, the only thing he did find was trampled grass and blood stains. It wasn't enough blood for somebody to die and it was most likely not from one of his men.

"Me too. No sign of a body though," Michael said.

After thoroughly checking the surroundings and finding nothing more, Michael too stepped inside only to find Casey kneeling on the ground, examining a knife.

"They fought back. This is Billy's." He picked up the knife and cleaned the bloody blade with one of his handkerchiefs. "They were probably heavily outmanned." When the blade was clean again, Casey carefully placed it between his belt and the waistband of his pants. The knife would be returned to its owner; he would make sure of that.

Their gazes met and without having spoken a word, Michael knew what Casey was about to ask. "We need to take a closer look at Santiago's house, check the perimeter and find a way in," Michael said preemptively. "The mission is still a go; we just have to get Billy and Rick out too."

"If they're still alive. And the guards could be more on the edge because they found two intruders."

"If they'd be dead, the guards would have left them behind. Besides, the guards could also be more distracted because of their new prisoners," Michael replied. "We have to be careful anyway."

They left the backpacks sitting against the trees, simply placing some scrub around them to obscure them from direct sight and then set off

Santiago's compound was big. The huge house was sitting in the middle of a lush green area. Just a few tress were scattered inside, most of them providing shade for a pool. The house itself had two stories, and several balconies made the upper floor slightly smaller than the ground floor. A sizable garage had been built perpendicular to the main house, making its appearance not as square. The complete area was surrounded by an eight foot high wall. While there was no wire on top for further protection, the wall itself was smooth because of its fresh, white plaster.

It took them nearly two hours to go around the compound once. They had been deliberately slow, making sure that they wouldn't miss any possible weak points in either the wall or in the security system, which would help them gain access.

Their accuracy in examining the compound had paid off. Santiago had planted cameras in regular intervals on his wall. However, there was one spot in the southwest corner that was not covered while the cameras took a sweep across the mansion's garden. This blind spot in the security system appeared only every five minutes and then it was there for a bit more than just a minute.

It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough. They were going to use that minute to climb the wall and make their way across the garden and into the house.

Additionally, Michael and Casey had planted several explosives around the compound and farther in the jungle that could be detonated with a remote. Not only did that serve as a contingency plan, should their intrusion into the compound be detected too soon, but it would also serve as their distraction to flee. They just had to find and free Billy and Rick first and then find Santiago. The Navy would meet them with a helicopter a few miles east of Santiago's house at a clearing close to the river. With a little bit of luck, the team could fly to base with them.

Now both men stood hidden in the jungle, the white wall just a few feet in front of them. Their eyes were focused on the single, black camera that was mounted high on the wall and slowly moved from left to right. Finally it reached the correct angle and the small area in the corner of the wall became invisible to security.

Michael reached the barrier first and crossed his fingers to form a human step. Without stopping, Casey reached him and stepped onto the folded hands.

Groaning under the weight, Michael pushed Casey farther up and felt the other man's shoe scratch his shoulder as he vaulted himself up and on top of the wall. Seconds later, Casey held out his hands and Michael took them. He jumped up the first few feet, and then pressed the tips of his feet into the wall for further leverage, as Casey pulled him up.

Then both men were over the wall. The grass on the other side softened their impact on the ground, but neither man took the time to appreciate it. Instead they took off running, ducking as low as they could and hoping that they would stay out of the sight of the other cameras.

Their sweaty backs hit the rough exterior wall of the main house and they held their breath for a second, checking to see if anyone had seen them. But no alarm sounded and no guards were visible on the grounds.

Looking each other in the eyes, Michael and Casey nodded. It was time to move on.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Consciousness came slowly, which Billy thought was probably a good thing. His head was aching even in his semi-conscious state and he knew that the pain would only get worse once he actually opened his eyes.

He must have groaned, because sound was also slowly staring to invade his senses and he could hear Rick calling his name.

His lids were incredible heavy, but despite the downward pull of them and the light sending new, stabbing pain right into his brain, he forced them open.

Billy's vision was blurry, but he could make out a simple room. The stone walls were bare, and light was coming from a source somewhere above his head. And judging from the brightness of it, it was artificial. So any possible windows in the room were probably boarded up. He could barely make out the edges of a door from his point of view.

The second he started to move, Billy realized that he was tied to a chair. Coarse rope secured his wrists behind his back, stretching his shoulders uncomfortably. He groaned again, but this time not because of the pain.

"Billy? Are you awake? Are you okay?"

"I'm awake. No need to shout," Billy replied and finally lifted his head. Rick was sitting in a chair to his right, equally restrained. And although his face looked calm, his eyes were wide open and panicky.

Thanks to them, Rick had been put into many dangerous situations, but all of them had been planned by the ODS. Hardly any of them had happened randomly like this kidnapping. Sometimes Billy did felt sorry about what they all did to Rick. But then, he had gone through the same hazing when he had started with MI6. Ah, the wonders of being the newbie.

"Billy!" Rick's harsh shout made him look up again. He hadn't even realized that his head had dropped again. And his thoughts had been drifting. That couldn't be good. Not that he was going to mention that to Rick.

"I'm fine, just thought that my shoes were untied. Are you alright?"

"Just a headache. It kind of feels like a hangover," Rick admitted, ignoring Billy's attempt at a distraction.

"Then you never had a proper hangover before. Casey and I will give you one, once we're back home. Can you move at all?" Billy asked, looking to his right were Rick was sitting.

"I have no leverage," Rick replied in disappointment, and he gave a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders.

Billy nodded and turned his gaze away; he needed to concentrate now and looking at his fellow inmate would not help. While the rope was tied securely around both of his wrists, he still had a bit of range left. Hopefully that would be enough. He bent his left thumb back as far as possible and then rammed it against the back of his chair. The first time just shook the chair, but when he tried it again, he heard the crack of his thumb dislocating. Fiery pain instantly shot up his arm and Billy bit his lip hard to stop himself from crying out loud.

"The hell was that?" Rick asked, sounding confused. "That sounded bad."

"That, my young friend was the sound of my thumb dislocating," Billy replied absentmindedly as he started to wriggle his hands out of the rope.

"You dislocated your thumb? Don't tell me that you trained to do that?" Rick probably believed that his team was crazy enough to actually do something like that, especially since he had learned that Casey trained his body to be immune to electroshocks by applying them to himself.

Still, even the ODS had limits to their insanity. At least, some of them still did.

"No, or do I look like Casey? I just dislocated it a few times when I was a wee one playing Rugby. Ever since then I can easily pop the thumb in and out. It can be a handy trick for situations such as these."

Just as he could feel the ropes slipping further down his wrists, the door to their cell was pushed open. They had only seen pictures of Santiago, but now he was standing right in front of them. The broad forehead and the square jaw were easy to recognize, just like the shock of black hair that was glued to his head with gel.

Two more men stepped into the room with him, both clearly hired muscle. After sweeping his eyes over them, Billy turned back to Santiago and grinned at the man. "This is not a very nice way to greet guests of your country."

"You are no guests of my country," Santiago replied. His voice was deep and his Spanish accent was thick.

"Aye, you're right. Pablo here," Billy said and indicated Rick with his head, "is my guide. Poor lad doesn't even speak English."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rick's face slipping for a second, then it changed back into a scared and innocent expression. Billy just hoped that Santiago hadn't caught that slip up. Santiago's eyes moved between Billy and Rick, but finally settled on the Scot. It seemed like he was buying the story for now.

If he could, Billy would have sighed in relief. He had a pretty good idea what was going to come next and he didn't wanted Rick to be at the end of that treatment. Somehow he felt like he needed to protect Rick's naiveté. The lad was still open and unafraid in his understanding of the world, and there was an innocence about that Billy missed. It would do them all good if they could make sure that Rick didn't turn into a cynic, paranoid bastard like the rest of them.

It was just a quick nod of the head from Santiago, but it was enough to get one of the man behind him to move. The fist caught Billy straight in the jaw, whipping his head to the side.

Billy didn't know when he started to use talking to actually deflect from his feelings, but now he just couldn't stop it, no matter the situation. So Billy did what he did best. After straightening up again and flexing his aching jaw, it just kept moving. "My, that was a good, strong hit. But really, I suppose you want answers. The problem is, you have to ask questions first. Else I don't know when to lie."

It was only after the second blow, which Billy was sure cracked some ribs, that he cringed at his own poor wording. His brain to mouth filter was certainly not working at all. Probably knocked out by the concussion.

But at least he could feel the ropes slipping even further down his hand. Just a few more inches and he would be free. He just needed to distract Santiago and his goons from his movements.

"Then I will ask you questions," Santiago said, his eyes narrowed with distrust. "Who are you and what do you want here?"

"Ah, the classics. Always good. I'm Robert MacNeill, tourist from Scotland," Billy said, strengthening his accent. "And the lad is Pablo Montoya. He's showing me the jungle. Just unlucky circumstance that we managed to intrude upon your sovereign territory."

"You shot my men," Santiago said, clearly not buying the story.

"Admittedly you shot first," Billy said with a small shrug. "We just defended ourselves."

A third punch caught him across his cheekbone and he could've sworn that he had heard it crunch under the assault. Black dots invaded his vision and he Billy could feel his consciousness slipping away.

It was the faint feeling of the rope slipping off his fingers that helped Billy keep the darkness at bay. Breathing deeply against the pain and with his chin still resting on his chest, he said, "That wasn't fair; I wasn't even lying that time."

Santiago started to laugh and then his two men joined him. And that was the distraction Billy needed.

He jumped out of his chair, grabbing the back of it as he moved and smashed it against the man closest to him. The chair splintered as the man went down, but Billy didn't stop to look if he stayed down. Instead he turned to Santiago, who had stopped laughing and was now staring in shock and fear at Billy.

A small, mirthless smile spread over Billy's face, before he felled the cartel lord with one well-placed uppercut.

The third man in the room had moved slightly, trying to pull a gun from his leg holster, but again Billy was faster. Adrenaline and determination were driving him and while this man was more difficult to subdue than Santiago, Billy only received a few punches before he managed to get the man into a headlock.

He held on tight, counting the seconds in his head and only let go when he was sure the man was well and truly out. Exhausted, he staggered to the wall and leaned against it. He tasted fresh blood on his lips and felt his right eye starting to swell shut. His ribs were protesting with every gasping breath he took. But he was still standing, while their attackers weren't.

"Billy? Are alright?" Rick asked and once Billy lifted his head again and met his eyes, the young operative continued, "That was awesome."

Billy grinned in return and pushed himself off the wall. Hopefully one of Santiago's men would have a knife, then he could cut Rick's ties and they would be on their way out.

Rick's face suddenly lost all earlier relief and shock replaced it. His eyes went wide, not focusing on Billy anymore, but rather at someone just to his left, where the door was.

The sound of a gun being cocked came from behind Billy and he closed his eyes in resignation. Sodding hell, they were as good as dead


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

The shadows in the corridor were slowly getting darker as the sun dipped behind the tall trees of the jungle surrounding compound.

Michael and Casey carefully made their way along one of the many corridors inside the house. They were empty and neither man could hear anybody else moving about in the house. From time to time, they passed by a door, but it seemed clear that their presence had not yet been detected. While they didn't knew exactly where Billy and Rick were being held, both men had guessed that it would be somewhere in the basement.

Casey knew that most criminals kept their prisoners in the basement simply because it was easier to defend than the rest of the house. Basements generally had fewer exits, which also made them harder to reach and easier for the other side to secure. And of course who wanted to have unseemly things happen in their nicely and expensively furnished rooms? Things such as torture and death were also best reserved for areas of the house where welcomed company probably wouldn't tread. Casey hated basements for exactly those reasons.

But as usual, Michael had come up with a plan and regardless of the risks, Casey trusted that. Now they only had to find the stairs leading down and hope that they had guessed right.

For Casey's part, he only had to follow orders and keep himself primed and ready. Mentally, he already had entered a zone in which everything was calm; his heart was beating in a slow, steady beat and the world around him was sharper, more intense. It helped him to stay concentrated on the mission, no matter the circumstances. It helped him now too, as he silently followed behind Michael.

Both men had their guns drawn but hoped that they wouldn't have to use them too soon. All unnecessary noise would alarm whoever else was in the house. And they needed to avoid that for as long as possible.

They crossed once through the whole ground floor of the house before they finally found the stairs that led them to the basement. The stairs were at the back corner, close to the door leading out to the garage. Lucky for them, there was no door blocking their access to them. There simply was a wooden banister separating the stairs from the hall and a handrail that ran down parallel to the steps.

They stopped at the wall opposite the stairs, still a good few feet away from the steps. Again their communication worked without saying a single word. Casey pulled out a couple of stones they had collected in the jungle before entering the house and threw them down the stairs. They clattered loudly down and by the time the noise had stopped, both men had hidden themselves behind the furniture in the hallway.

"¿Hola? ¿Quién es?" a deep voice floated up and Casey worked hard to suppress a snort. As if anyone intruding this place would really answer that question.

Casey took a deep breath, then stepped forward and threw another couple of stones down the stairs, before slipping back behind the cupboard he had used as a hiding place.

Instead of a voice, footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs this time. The steps stopped at the top and after giving a short nod to Michael, Casey stepped out from behind the cupboard. He took one large step forward and used his left hand to grab the MP in the man's hand. With that movement, he placed his index finger behind the trigger and effectively prevented the man from pulling it.

With his left hand still entangled in the MP, Casey smashed his right fist into the man's face. His opponent sagged a bit and Casey rammed his foot into the man's crotch. A dirty move, but this was not a fight in a boxing ring; this was a brawl and inhibitions could get one hurt faster than anything else. A lesson Casey had learned early in life and had lived by ever since.

With a groan, the man collapsed on his knees and with his hands now slack, Casey had no trouble pulling the MP from his hands and throwing it over to Michael. In a last move to knock his opponent out completely, Casey rammed the man's head against the wall.

Together with Michael, he dragged the unconscious man out the door and dumped him just behind the door and in the garage.

"We need to disable the cars too," Michael said. In all the planning, they had totally forgotten the cars in the garage. Now seeing them parked side by side made their oversight obvious.

Casey nodded, pulling Billy's knife and slitting the tires of the two Jeeps that were parked in the garage. "That should stop them." There was a small amount of satisfaction in his voice.

Michael also grinned, but both men sobered up fast. They still had a job to do.

Hoping that there had been just one guard posted at the foot of the stairs, the two operatives carefully made their way down.

Casey was leading this time. He aimed his gun low as he took the steps, even though he knew that it was a useless action. Any guard that was posted at the foot of the stairs would see him first. It made him feel better anyway. But again luck was on their side and the hallway was empty.

The basement was smaller than the ground floor and cut far more openly. Several doors were set at unequal distances in the walls on both sides. And all but one door were closed. From their position, they were able to look in the room through the gap and were just barely able to make out Rick, sitting in a chair and looking very much alive and well. That was the good news. The bad news was from their obscured position, they could also see an unfamiliar arm aiming a gun at someone else they couldn't quite make out.

Casey was running before his mind could fully process what he was seeing. He slid the last few feet into the room, gun already extended in front of him. The second he came to a stop just inside the door frame, his gun moved to the target and he pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed loudly in the small room, but it didn't drown out the sound of another gun clattering on the ground. The man who had held the gun had already been on the ground, but now a dark red stain was slowly spreading over his chest.

"Casey! My hero. I would hug you, but I'm pretty sure you would rip off my arms if I tried that." A familiar, Scottish accented voice came from behind Casey and he turned around to find Billy leaning against the wall beside the door. There was still rope wound around one of Billy's wrists, a nice loop sticking out from it. He looked bad, clearly beaten up and exhausted, but in true Billy form, grinning nonetheless.

Casey shook his head and turned toward Rick. His hands were most likely tied behind his back by the same rope that was still attached to Billy. "He has a concussion hasn't he?" he asked the junior member of their team.

"I think so, why?" Rick asked. His eyes landed on Michael, who had come to a stop behind Casey just seconds ago.

"Billy's always a bit more honest than usual when he's concussed," the team leader explained and stepped farther into the room, drawing his own knife to cut through Rick's bindings.

"Brain to mouth filter, Michael. Brain to mouth filter," Billy said and watched as Rick rotated his now freed shoulders and wrists.

"I know Billy," Michael said patiently. "You told us before."

The Scot looked truly puzzled "I did? I can't remember that."

"That's because you were concussed then too." This time it was Casey who replied as he stepped closer to Billy. He grabbed the other man's right wrist in a soft hold and moved the wrist so that he could harmlessly slip the knife between skin and rope to cut through the remains.

"Oh." Billy sounded disappointed, but his face lightened up when he saw what Casey was holding. "Hey, that's my knife."

"Yes it is. And you'll get it back as soon as you can think clearly again."

Billy lifted one eyebrow and watched as Casey returned the knife to its former position. "You really believe that I can think clearly?"

"No. But there are times when you are more lucid than now. And then you're actually a pretty good stabber . Right now, I think you're more at risk of hurting yourself than anyone else."

Behind them, Michael and Rick were using the remains of the rope to tie Santiago up. Casey didn't pay much attention to them; instead he grabbed a hold of Billy's chin and twisted it so that he could get a better look into the taller man's eyes. A small sigh of relief escaped him when he realized that while the pupils were reacting sluggishly, both still had the same size.

"We're ready to go," Michael said. He had hauled Santiago up on his feet and the cartel lord was hanging off his shoulder, slightly dazed with a growing bruise on his jaw.

Casey nodded in reply and Michael grinned. "Then you have the honors."

The remote control was stashed in another of Casey's pockets. It was a simple detonator, only one button on top of the plastic cover, but pressing it would leave a lot of chaos behind. The ODS would again live up to its name. They had planted the charges strategically on all four walls, not only to cause the most confusion, but also to make sure that they wouldn't have to climb the wall again on their way out.

The combined explosions rocked the house seconds after Casey had pressed the button. Soon after the last echoes of the shockwave had abated, footsteps could be heard running around above their heads and just in case and to be safe, the team waited a few more seconds until it was again silent before moving.

The hallways were just as empty as they had been when Michael and Casey passed them for the first time, but now they could see men standing outside, waving around but uncertain as to what they should do now.

The distraction had worked perfectly and unseen, the ODS team managed to leave the way Michael and Casey had entered. With entered, with the added benefit of not having to climb over the wall again. They only had to steer clear of the confused guards and pass some of the rubble the explosion had left behind.

The trip through the jungle was hard. Santiago was uncooperative and had to be pulled along forcefully most of the time. But what troubled the men more was that Billy's condition worsened the longer they walked. It had started with Billy vomiting not even ten minutes after they had left the compound. Then his walk became unsteady and then Billy went silent, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

Nausea and tripping were worrisome, but the lack of dialogue from the normally talkative agent was a sure sign that things were worse than they'd thought.

As a precaution, Casey was already walking close beside him and when Billy stumbled again, he pulled the taller man's arm over his shoulder, steadying him.

"Thanks, mate. The ground is kinda moving." Billy's voice was slurred, the Scottish accent heavier than usual and Casey had some trouble understanding him.

"Yeah, that's because we're walking." Casey tried to sound annoyed, because that was, after all, what he and Billy did best: trading insults even under the worst conditions.

"No, not like that. More like snakes, you know like in Indiana Jones, where the ground was moving because of the snakes? Just without the snakes. At least I hope so."

In one fluid movement, Casey turned Billy around and leaned him against the tree closest to them. "How bad is your headache on a scale of one to ten?" he asked and at the same time checked the pupil reaction again. This time they were unequal and Casey felt his calm slowly slipping away.

"I don't know. 12?"

"Michael, we need to hurry up," Casey yelled, his voice sounding steadier than he felt.

"Why?" Michael asked and looked over his shoulder to see that Billy was slumped against a tree and Casey was more or less holding him upright.

"His left eye is blown," came Casey's calm response.

"Shit," Michael cursed and pushed Santiago even harder forward. "We've got one more mile to go. Can he make it?"

"He has too," Casey told Michael and the turned back to Billy."Right?"

Billy didn't reply, just blinked at him a few times, and Casey took that as a yes.

It was far too easy to move Billy's arm over his shoulder and continue to half carry him. The fact that Billy wasn't protesting at all only worried Casey more. He had seen enough concussions go from bad to worse to know what was going on in Billy's brain. At best it was just swelling up; at worst he was bleeding inside.

After hearing the conversation between the other two operatives, Rick had stopped and waited until Casey and Billy reached his position and then supported the Scot from the other side.

The darkness in the jungle was making their way even more treacherous. The sun had disappeared completely soon after they had entered the jungle and now deep shadows hit any unevenness in the ground.

Billy stumbled more and more, even with the extra support from him and Rick. With the growing dimness and added weight, it was all Casey could do to keep from tripping over the terrain himself.

Finally they heard the heavy thump of the military helicopter coming and then they could see the clearing through the trees.

"C'mon, it's not that much farther now," Casey said and despite the bad lighting, he sped up his pace even more. Most of Billy's weight was now resting on his and Rick's shoulders, but the faster they got to the helicopter, the faster they could get out.

Trees bent under the force of the rotors, and the men ducked low against the turbulence. But the helicopter finally landed and the side doors of the Sikorsky were opened by a pair of soldiers.

Michael shoved Santiago in first. The soldiers grabbed the man's upper arms and thighs, shoving him back into the copter until he was seated in the far back corner under armed guard.

The soldiers were less rough with the ODS team, but still their grasp was firm, and just seconds after the Sikorsky had landed, it was taking off again.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This is the last part so again a big, hige thank you to my Beta'd faye-dartmouth, who battled with my comma mistakes and gave me great tips to improve the story.  
>Hope that you have enjoyed reading the story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.<p>

* * *

><p>Part 5<p>

Rick was slowly making his way along the barren corridor, juggling three cups of coffee in his hands. Coffee he was staring to hate. He had thought that the coffee in the Agency's break room was bad, but the stuff that dripped out of the vending machine here was just vile. Still, no one on the team had stopped drinking it since they got here.

It took some effort to open the door with his elbow without spilling any of the hot liquid, but after the last few days, Rick had a lot of training in that. As always when he entered the room, his eyes immediately moved to check on Billy. The Scot looked better than he did on the helicopter ride, not that that was hard. Color had returned to his face, even if most of it was the vibrant blues and purples of spreading bruises, and he didn't look so haggard anymore.

Billy's left thumb had been easily relocated and was now immobilized in a bright pink cast. They had chosen that color yesterday and someone, Rick highly suspected Casey, had written 'Hug me, I'm Scottish' in black marker across it.

But Billy hadn't woken up since he collapsed just seconds after stepping into the helicopter. That had been two days ago. The doctor had told them not to worry, that the swelling in his brain was reducing significantly and that it wasn't unusual for someone with a head injury of this nature to be out for so long. But Rick was worried, and he could tell that Michael and Casey were worried too. Neither man showed it openly, but Rick knew them pretty well by now and was able to identify concern in their little gestures.

Rick's current sight was a good example of that. Michael was sitting in the room's only chair, his legs placed on the mattress and his socked feet just barely touching Billy's leg through the bedcover.

Casey had found his place at the window, where he was able to observe the whole room. From this vantage point, he proceeded to glare at any medical personal that came inside.

That glare was directed at Rick for a second before it refocused on the brown plastic cups Rick held in his hands. Despite his angry demeanor, he accepted to cup, just like Michael did.

Rick settled in beside Casey and managed not to grimace at the taste of the coffee. Even with a high amount of sugar in it, the brew was extremely bitter. Just like his feelings about the mission. He hated both but in the end he couldn't help but stomach them. Placing the cup on the windowsill, Rick watched the soldiers moving around outside for a while, trying to get rid of the nasty aftertaste of the coffee and his morose thoughts.

The Navy had flown them over the Caribbean Sea and to Guantanamo, which had been their closest base from Columbia. It was a weird feeling to see so much concrete again after having spent more than two weeks in areas where hardly anybody had lived. But it was at least a step in the right direction, a step closer to home.

Now Billy just had to wake up again and they could take a military flight back to Langley. Rick sighed and turned around again. So much for trying to think about something else.

He felt guilty that he had made it out of Santiago's basement with just a mild concussion and some bruises while Billy hadn't. Of course, he knew what Billy had done, that he had made sure that Santiago and his men had kept their attention and aggression focused on Billy, saving Rick from the worst of the beating.

It was a weird feeling to know that a teammate would risk his own health and life for him. And he was pretty sure that Michael and Casey would have done the same. He just hoped he could do that too, if the situation should ever present itself.

Michael's sudden movement stopped his musings. Their boss had sat up, socked feet now back on the floor. Immediately, Rick and Casey took a step forward and were now stood right beside bed.

Billy's eyelids were fluttering, then after a second or two, they opened. Dazed blue eyes wandered across the room and then settled on Michael.

"Welcome back," Michael said, relieve clearly audible in his voice.

A frown creased Billy's forehead and he blinked sluggishly before saying, "We're not in the jungle anymore."

"Nope. Been back for a few days," Michael explained and then grinned wearily. "You just decided to catch up on your beauty sleep."

"And you obviously missed out," Billy replied after he took in the rumpled clothing and the dark shadows under his teammate's eyes.

"Don't worry about that, we'll catch up on that," Michael reassured him and gave Billy a quick pat on the upper arm.

Billy's eyes drifted closed, then snapped back open again and settled on Rick. "Pablo? You alright?"

"That's not my name," Rick replied with his heart stuttering in his chest. The doctor had warned them that there was a small chance of brain damage; was this the first sign that something was seriously wrong in Billy's head?

Michael and Casey stared at Rick with confusion and worry in their eyes. That was when Rick realized that they had no idea about his cover identity in Santiago's basement. "He called me Pablo, saying that I was just his guide."

"Aye, you look like a Pablo, at least more than you look like a Rick. But you are alright?" Billy's voice was getting softer as he was slowly drifting back into sleep.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Rick reassured him.

A quiet agreeing hum was the only thing escaping Billy's lips before he was asleep again.

"You don't think the doctor is right? That he's got brain damage?" Rick asked, worry was coloring his voice. If Billy really was seriously injured because of him, Rick didn't know if he could ever forgive himself.

To his confusion, Michael and Casey just grinned brightly at him.

"No. Not more than usual anyway. He once called me Al for two whole days, because my cover name was Albert," Michael elaborated.

"I was Herbert for about a day," Casey added in a tone that sounded angry, yet strangely fond.

Rick sighed in relief, only to stop himself halfway through. He was still trying to convince them to call him Rick and not new guy, and he wasn't sure he wanted to shake another nickname from Billy. But there was one thing he knew for sure: he was going to buy Billy a beer or three when they were back home again. The Scot owed him a hangover.

The End


End file.
